Darcy in Want of a Wife

Chapter 24

Mrs. Bingley’s Sitting room

The Bingleys’ Rented House

Half Moon Street

The Next Morning

The drapery and furniture of Mrs. Bingley’s sitting room were an odd mixture of pinks and oranges and hardly to the lady’s taste. But Jane had insisted that she liked it well enough and did not care to spend money to change a house which was only leased for the Season, and Elizabeth, while she generally crinkled her nose upon entering the room, could only admire her elder sister’s frugality.

At the moment, however, she found the conversation too astonishing to pay any attention to her surroundings.

“Jane, you must be teasing. It is quite impossible that Mr. Darcy wishes to marry me!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Jane, seated on a loveseat across from the window, looked at her younger sister fondly and said, “Do you truly think I would joke about something like that?”

Elizabeth stared at her in wonder and slowly shook her head. “You would not. Of course you would not. But Jane, are you certain that Charles truly understood Mr. Darcy’s words? It seems absolutely impossible!”

Jane frowned as fiercely as was possible in such a placid lady. “Why would it be impossible, my dear sister? You are a wonderful woman, and any man would be privileged to win you as a wife.”

Elizabeth dropped next to her sister and reached out to take Jane’s hand in her own.

“That is the partiality of my sister talking,” she declared. “I like myself very well, but I am not as beautiful as you are, nor as gentle and kind, and I have no dowry. Mr. Darcy is handsome, clever, wealthy, well-connected, and master of a great estate. Why would he choose me when he must have the pick of the ladies of high society?

Jane squeezed her hand in return and smiled. “My dear Lizzy, has it occurred to you that the ladies of the ton are all much of a muchness, and that perhaps Mr. Darcy finds you so alluring because you are not like them?”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in thought. “I suppose that is possible. Lady Audrey and Miss Story are intelligent, vibrant, interesting ladies, but many of the ladies of the ton are not readers, and their conversation is, in my view, not particularly interesting. I daresay he is used to being adulated and pursued, and I have never done that, either.”

“Whatever the reason,” Jane said, “he is in love with you. What do you think about him, Lizzy? Do you believe you could be happy with Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth released her sister’s hand and leaned back with a frown.

“I do not know,” she said a full two minutes later. “I like him now, and I respect his intelligence and diligence, and appreciate his assistance with Lydia, but I do not love him. Given all his positive attributes, I … what do you think, Jane? Ought I to marry him?”

Jane’s blue eyes flared wide in astonishment. “Lizzy! Are you genuinely asking me whether you should marry a man you do not love?”

Her sister blushed and, most uncharacteristically, stammered, “I ... I do not ... oh Jane! I am entirely boggled by this revelation!”

Jane laughed softly and patted her sister’s hand. “My dear, there is no reason at all for you to make a decision now. Indeed, you ought not until you are certain that you genuinely care for Mr. Darcy. This changes nothing.”

Elizabeth, finding that she could not stay seated, leaped to her feet and began pacing up and down the small room. “It changes everything, Jane! I had no idea at all...”

She swung around and bent a stern look on her sister. “Did Mr. Darcy ask you to speak to me?”

“No, of course not,” Jane said calmly. “He told Charles, and Charles told me. We talked about whether we ought to mention the matter to you, and I decided I should because as far as I know, you did not have the least shadow of an idea that Mr. Darcy ...”

“Was in love with me?” Elizabeth interrupted, throwing up her hands. “I am entirely flummoxed, I promise you! Especially given that the first time he laid eyes on me, he insulted my looks.”

“Oh Lizzy, can you not forgive him for that?”

“I have, long ago,” Elizabeth replied, dropping back into her seat. “But there is a huge difference from ‘tolerable’ to ‘in love’. Truly, Jane, are you entirely certain of this?”

Jane could not help but chuckle. “Yes, I am absolutely certain, Lizzy.”

/

Matlock House

Darcy stepped into the foyer of Matlock House and handed over his hat, cane, and gloves to a waiting footman. He straightened his coat and ran a hand through his hair before following the butler to the drawing room, which was occupied by five familiar women, namely his aunt, the Countess of Matlock, her two daughters, Rachel and Emily Fitzwilliam, and Miss Anne de Bourgh. The last individual in the room was Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne’s companion, who was knitting a scarf out of red and orange yarn.

“Darcy!” Lady Matlock said, smiling up at her tall and handsome nephew, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” he replied, bowing to his aunt and cousins. “I hope you are all well?”

“We are very well,” Lady Matlock replied. “Now, I know you and Anne have a few things to discuss, so please sit down.”

He did so, in a chair across from Anne, who was wrapped warmly in shawls. He studied her with care and decided that, while she was overly thin, she looked far happier than he had seen her in many a year.

“Darcy,” Anne remarked, an amused glint in her eye.

“Anne.”

“I assume Richard told you that I have no desire to marry you?”

He nodded. “He did.”

“I presume that is not a disappointment?”

Darcy hesitated and then, responding to the slight grin on his cousin’s face, said, “Truly, I am relieved. I care for you as a cousin, but we are not, I believe, well suited for marriage.”

“I agree completely,” Anne replied, leaning back in her chair and heaving out a contented sigh. “Indeed, at the moment, I am not certain that marriage itself suits me. I am hopeful that my health will improve substantially here in London, away from Mother’s laudanum and her quack of a doctor.”

“I was most distressed to learn that your mother has been dosing you with laudanum,” Darcy said, his dark brows lowered in disgust.

“It is no great surprise,” Anne said cynically. “Lady Catherine has always wished to rule the roost, and while legally I will inherit Rosings in a few weeks, I know she wishes to continue as she has since my father died. Indeed, her insistence on a cradle betrothal likely sprang for her desire that you carry me off to Pemberley as your wife, leaving her to control Rosings.”

This was, Darcy realized, eminently reasonable. Catherine de Bourgh wanted nothing more than to rule her domain without interference. He had, he realized with shame, assumed that Anne would be a poorer mistress of the estate than her mother because of her indifferent health, though now it seemed likely that much of her weakness was due to being subjected to poor medical care.

“Do you think you ought to see a doctor here in London, a better one?” he asked.

“I will be examined by Sir William Knighton on the morrow,” his cousin replied composedly. “Lady Matlock informs me that he is an excellent physician.”

“I am glad,” Darcy said simply.

“I am too,” Anne said and smiled with such pleasure that for a moment she was almost beautiful. “But tell me, Darcy, what has caused you to stay in Town for the Season? I would have thought you would be at Pemberley by now.”

Darcy hesitated briefly, lowered his voice, and said, “I am in love.”

Anne’s eyes widened.

“In love?” she repeated in a hushed tone. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Are you engaged, then?”

“No, I am not, because, erm, well, I have not offered yet, and I think if I offered now, she would refuse me.”

This provoked his cousin’s jaw to drop in disbelief. “Refuse you? Who are you in love with? A duke’s daughter?”

“No, she,” Darcy began and then shook his head. “No, she is not a duke’s daughter. The situation is complicated, and I have no intention of gossiping about the lady I love, so I will not tell you anything more about her. I merely want you to know that I most definitely will not offer for you; not that it matters, as you would have refused me as well.”

Anne sighed mournfully.

“If you had asked me at Rosings, I would have accepted,” she confessed. “I have long wanted to leave Kent, at least so long as my mother is overseer of Rosings. In any case, I could not stand firm in the face of my mother’s fury. I am relieved by your assurances that you will not marry me, and look forward to your engagement to your mystery lady.”

“If we are engaged.”

Anne cast her eyes heavenward and said, “Of course, but I cannot imagine a young lady refusing you. You have a great many attractive attributes.”

At this moment, the door opened and maids entered with tea service, and the Fitzwilliam ladies moved closer to Darcy and Anne. Darcy accepted tea and a scone, and he drank and ate largely silently, content to allow the ladies to speak at length about dresses for Anne and upcoming balls and parties and breakfasts. Anne was, to his relief, not intending to participate fully in the Season as she was not, he thought, quite strong enough for that. However there was a plan for the Countess of Matlock to invite two dozen select friends to meet with her niece and Darcy would be invited too, of course.

He accepted the vague invitation and fell to considering how best he could arrange to meet up with Miss Bennet on a frequent basis. He decided that he would send a note to Bingley asking about which events the inhabitants of Half Moon street would be attending.

Perhaps he should rent a box at the opera? Did Miss Bennet like the opera?

Maybe she would enjoy a tour of London’s greatest sites? The Mint was interesting, and Westminster Abbey was impressive, and Miss Bennet was an intelligent woman who would doubtless enjoy investigating such landmarks.

He would have to find a way to spend time with her. He wanted her hand in marriage beyond all else, and the only way to win her was to show Elizabeth Bennet that he was a gentleman worthy to be her husband.